


Socks Are Difficult

by BlurtItAllOut



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-11-02 04:44:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20626121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlurtItAllOut/pseuds/BlurtItAllOut
Summary: Kurt finds socks difficult, and Blaine is an oblivious fool in love.





	Socks Are Difficult

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this out of my head, so thus it was written. It's not entirely how I wanted it to be, but it is what it is.  
The story is pretty accurately canon to season 3, I think, even if it involves a lot of my head-canon too.  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I just miss these boys.

Socks are difficult. 

Kurt has approached the matter from a variety of angles, tried to find a solution around the issue, but no matter what, he just can’t find a way around it. He’s normally so creative, thinks outside the box without giving it a conscious thought, and is used to find his way around obstacles. But this one he can’t find an elegant solution to. Google is most definitely of no help, and he’d rather go through life without knowing rather than asking his dad about this. Who’d have thought that it would be a pair of clothes items, fashionable or not, that would stump him like this?

Socks are difficult.

So he does the only sensible thing, and removes them from the equation entirely. 

* * *

“Mmm, hey,” Blaine murmurs in greeting, and leans in for a quick peck on Kurt’s delicious lips. Finn is hovering in the background with narrowed eyes and a sour expression, and even though Blaine has no idea what his issue with him is, he doesn’t feel like rubbing their PDA in their face. Kurt may have forgiven Finn and embraced him like a brother, but Blaine hasn’t forgotten some of the stories Kurt shared about their past. And with how hostile Finn has been against Blaine at McKinley, he doesn’t want to do anything to set Finn off. Not because he’s afraid of him, but because he’d rather spend the time with his boyfriend. And he’s not sure if his boyfriend is up to passive-aggressively making out in front of his family either. So… So he ignores the other teenager, and instead hands Kurt the tray with coffee from the Lima Bean and the small paper bag with almond biscotti.

“Ooh, thank you! Best boyfriend ever!” Kurt squeals happily at the sight of the surprise treat, and tip-toes to the kitchen for a plate. Blaine blatantly ignores Finn, ignores how he huffs, ignores how he leaves the house, ignores how he slams the door. He doesn’t notice it at all, nope.

“Do you want to watch a movie in my room?” Kurt asks coquettishly, head tilted a little to the side revealing the tempting column of his neck, one hip cocked to the other side with his waist dipped so perfectly for Blaine’s hand to rest there. Blaine will never ever question Kurt’s ability to look sexy ever again. He so is!

“Umm, isn’t your… Are we… Mr. Hummel?”

“Washington,” Kurt says easily. “God bless politics,” he drawls, and then laughs as he tugs at Blaine’s free hand. “Come on, there’s that bootleg I told you about waiting on my laptop. I could play it for us to not watch?”

Blaine can’t help but laugh, because it’s true – there are so many movies they haven’t quite managed to finish because they have been distracted. Distracted by lips sliding against lips, distracted by tongues exploring the territories above the collar, distracted by mouths sneaking towards unmapped territories – areas where they need to use scarves. Distracted by hands running through hair because it’s late and Kurt isn’t going anywhere after Blaine has to leave, so it’s okay. Distracted by memorizing his profile until he can draw it in his sleep. Distracted by Kurt’s voice when he hums to the songs, or when he shares his biting commentary. Distracted by the heat radiating from the other boy. Distracted by the dip in the bed each time one of them shifts a little, the mattress slowly forcing their thighs closer together. Distracted by the long legs resting in Kurt’s bed, crossed at the ankle. Distracted by unbuttoned shirts and naked skin pressed together, and Blaine felt moronic when he realized that under Kurt’s amazing outfits he’s actually blessedly naked. They both are. And to feel Kurt’s skin against his own, there’s not a movie in the world that can compete with that, even if everything below the belt stays on. Even if they are only cuddling, with Blaine resting his cheek on Kurt’s bare chest, or if they have the time to really familiarize themselves with every piece of body and discover where it just tickles and where there’s a connection to their dicks. It’s all distracting, in every perfect way. They usually put on a movie they’ve actually seen before, so it doesn’t matter. An old favourite can always be rewatched later, and it’s nothing wrong about making new memories. But some movies are sacred. _Sound of Music_ reminds Kurt too much of his mom to be a make out-movie. _Burlesque_ is a movie that Blaine struggles to make out to, because it’s too much lady-skin shown, killing the mood. Besides, Cher is brilliant, and he loves watching her every scene.

And that’s where they are now, the bootleg playing on Kurt’s TV via chrome cast, coffee long ago drained into their bellies and pieces of biscotti floating in the black, liquid gold. Kurt hadn’t seen this one yet, so despite his words Blaine expects this will be one of the nights where they actually finish the movie before they do anything else. Kurt seems captivated by the performances, and is trying to hum along to the melodies as they get familiarized with them.

“It’s getting colder,” Kurt comments out of nowhere, and stretches his legs a little, bare toes wiggling on top of the covers.

“I guess the summer can’t last for ever. But it’ll be nice to bring the coats out of my closet again, I miss them. The cold isn’t all bad,” Blaine smiles. “And there are ways to warm you up, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Kurt answers impishly, side-eyeing him with a grin.

“Of course there are,” he says, and grabs the quilt from the chair in the corner of Kurt’s room. “Scoot over?” he suggests, and crawls back into bed behind Kurt to spoon him, draping the quilt over them. Like that, they can both see the TV. Blaine traps one of Kurt’s bare feet between his own, and those are really some cold toes, considering he can feel it through his socks.

“You could of course also wear socks, but this is much better,” Blaine hums, and wraps his arm even tighter around Kurt’s waist. He makes sure to keep his dangerous territory, the Southern Belt-Buckle-Stan, far away from paradise island, also known as Kurt’s butt. But he’s pressed against his boyfriend from shoulders to navel, chest moulded perfectly against his back. “This is really nice,” he hums. “I love being the big spoon. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kurt exhales, and folds his fingers together with Blaine’s across his stomach.

* * *

Like a true gentleman, Blaine kneels in front of Kurt and slowly pulls down the first zipper. When his boyfriend’s hands are occupied holding their coffees, it is only right and courteous that Blaine helps him unzip his tall, tight boots. He gently pulls Kurt’s foot out, making sure to not jostle him. He’s not just a gentleman, he’s also someone who wouldn’t want hot coffee spilled down his back.

He frowns in a question mark when he sees Kurt’s naked foot and sticks a hand inside the boot to retrieve the lost sock. But there is nothing to be found in the shoe.

“Am I rubbing off on you?” he grins, thinking about his own aversion to wear socks. A habit that only intensified after Kurt once mentioned something about appreciating his exposed ankles and sense of style. But it’s getting really cold outside, summer left abruptly, and autumn took over position, and even Blaine has pulled out thick, fluffy woolly socks by now.

“You could be?” Kurt murmurs hoarsely, and Blaine instantly blushes, because… Yeah, he’ll stay on his knees for a little while longer and take his time with the second boot. This is so not the time, Kurt had expressed his view on sex, and Blaine can wait. He’s not a Neanderthal, he’s more than his dick. He can wait, he can wait, he can wait. Just because Kurt happens to be damn sexy when he doesn’t try to be, unintentionally and accidentally. Of course they are rubbing off on each other, that’s what happens when you are in a relationship. Blaine pays much more attention to his skin care now, Kurt has been caught using sports metaphors in conversation, Blaine’s music taste has expanded since Kurt introduced him to his Spotify-collection, and apparently Kurt has developed a certain distaste for socks. So of course they are rubbing off on each other, just not literally.

Blaine exhales slowly, and gets up carefully.

“So what’s for dinner?” he asks instead, and takes the bags from Kurt, leading the way to the Anderson kitchen. Because he’s a patient gentleman, damn it.

* * *

Blaine is stupidly oblivious.

His boyfriend is a gentleman from a prior century, he’s attentive and charming, he sings with a sensuality that makes Kurt’s knees buckle, he dances in a way that makes Kurt cross his legs sitting on the back row in the choir room, he has an enthusiasm for bowties that makes Kurt squeal in delight because finally someone understands, he watches football with his dad with a passion that makes Kurt be a little teary-eyed because it’s _family_, he can discuss stubbornly with Kurt because they have a solid enough footing in their friendship so that they actually dare to disagree without thinking it affects their relationship, he kisses Kurt in a way that makes him feel so cherished, and his hands fit in Kurt’s as if they were moulded for each other.

But Blaine is also stupidly oblivious, unable to take a hint.

Kurt will have to up the game.

* * *

“Did you enjoy the sleepover at Mercedes’?” Blaine asks, not just because it’s the polite thing to do, but because he wants to know. If they can’t spend every hour of the day together, then at least he can hope that Kurt has a good time when they are apart.

“I really did,” Kurt gushes, and unbuttons his coat. He’d come straight to Blaine’s house for brunch after spending the night with most of the New Directions-girls.

“I loved the pictures you sent. You looked positively adorable in that dancing skeleton-tee.”

“It belongs to Tina,” Kurt smiles.

“I figured,” Blaine smiles back, and leans in to kiss Kurt, because there’s no reason not to.

Kurt toes out of his shoes, and Blaine frowns at the sight of his naked feet, because that has got to be cold. But then he notices Kurt’s toes.

“Ooh, that’s so cool! You did that last night?” Blaine says enthusiastically, and points at Kurt’s painted nails. They are a shimmering, metallic light blue.

“Just felt like spicing things up a little,” Kurt says airily. “A little something-something for just the two of us.”

“I like a little something-something for just the two of us,” Blaine grins, and squats down to have a closer look. “It’s a beautiful colour.”

“Light blue. For luck,” Kurt shrugs.

“Is something wrong?” Blaine immediately worries, and more or less jumps up to take Kurt’s hands in his.

“No! No, no, no, no, no,” Kurt rushes out. “I just… Wanted to get lucky?” he says while he does that thing where he manages to look up at Blaine even if he’s shorter than Kurt. Kurt E. Hummel is a dangerous, dangerous boy, does he even realize what he just said? Blaine swallows, and tries to force his body not to react, because they are taking it slow, this is unfamiliar territory for Kurt, and just because he sometimes looks hotter than hell or accidentally says something that talks directly to Blaine’s cock, he needs to keep it in his pants. He knows Kurt is superstitious, he remembers telling him about it when his dad was sick, and also how important light blue was for the wedding to make sure the newlyweds started off with all the luck they could get. It’s obvious that Kurt uses the nail polish to give himself a little boost before their upcoming tests and Sectionals.

“So what colour do you think I should wear, if I painted my nails,” he asks his boyfriend who’s pulling him by the hand to the kitchen where brunch will be made.

Kurt turns his head to look at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“You do realize that depends on what you’re wearing, to colour-coordinate?”

“These pants?” Blaine shrugs, because duh, is Kurt blind?

“Underwear,” Kurt deadpans, as if it is obvious and Blaine should have thought about accessories like that. He continues his dash to the kitchen. Luckily, so he can’t see Blaine’s wild blush. This is so not the time to pull down his pants and ask Kurt to kneel in front of him and define the exact colour of his boxer briefs, nope, it’s not. That’s something for later, maybe three years later or whatever it takes.

* * *

When Blaine returns to the choir room from his much needed toilet break, he immediately spots his boyfriend sitting on the raisers, cradling a foot in his lap. His face communicates a silent pain.

“Hey, what happened?” Blaine asks as he sits down next to Kurt, kissing his forehead.

“Someone stepped on my toes,” he hisses, and even if it’s brief, his quick glance in direction of his step-brother is all Blaine needs to hate Finn a little bit more. Sectionals is just weeks away, they haven’t landed on a set list, everything Blaine suggests is being shut down before he can finish his sentence, and Mr. Schue is being his usual ignorant self and coddling Rachel’s chronic need for attention and solos. Blaine’s had it.

“What kind of team captain injures his own players?” he hisses at Finn, but Kurt stops him.

“Hey, it was my own fault, I should have kept my distance, we do know what level Finn dances at.” There’s some chuckling, an embarrassed meek objection from the boy, and Blaine exhales slowly. Instead he returns his focus on Kurt’s foot.

“Do you need the nurse? Or an x-ray?” he says, and is brushing a finger along Kurt’s inseam because he’s afraid of causing more pain if he’s severely injured, but at the same time feels as if he should make an effort at examining Kurt’s foot. They had a first aid-class at Dalton, but they learned more about CPR, treating burn- and cut-injuries, and not much about what to do when a foot has been trampled by a teenage-elephant.

“I’ll live,” Kurt smiles, but a shiver runs through him when Blaine wraps his fingers around Kurt’s ankle to have a better look. He must be in so much pain.

“Why were you dancing without your shoes anyway?”

Kurt shrugs, and before he can say anything Santana struts over to them, sitting down next to Kurt.

“I bet this is foreplay for you guys,” she grins. “Showing a little ankle, showing a little shoulder,” she teases, and tugs at Kurt’s off the shoulder-sweater, even if he has a tank top under. “Or showing a little clavicle; hot!” she purrs and runs a finger across the line of Blaine’s boatneck sweater. “So much skin, whatever shall you do with all of this, you better cover up and run home to indulge in mutual facials. All that skin care Kurt talks about? I bet that’s how you climax together. Virgins,” she rolls her eyes, and saunters off to Brittany to kiss her deeply.

Blaine is left gaping at her, while Kurt just rolls his own eyes.

“Okay, once more from the top!” Mr. Schue instructs, as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Blaine is bouncing in excitement up the stairs to Kurt’s house, eager for an evening together alone without supervising parents or annoying siblings. Kurt and he have great plans of a movie marathon, after making cookies. Blaine had been early in his eager, so he killed a little time at the mall instead of being rudely early. And there he’d found a perfect gift for Kurt. It’s no special occasion, he just found something that made him think of Kurt, so he bought it.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Kurt sighs, and pulls him inside by the scarf wrapped around Blaine’s neck. He doesn’t want to risk getting a cold before his audition for West Side Story.

“I got you something,” Blaine preens, and formally hands the bag over to Kurt to free his hands, so he can focus on getting his outerwear off.

“A present? But I don’t have anything for you,” Kurt frowns.

“You’re everything I could ever want,” Blaine says sincerely, and pecks Kurt’s lips. No need to get distracted yet, there’s time for more kisses later. He wants Kurt to open his present first. Blaine is a genius!

Kurt takes his hand and leads way to the couch, and Blaine sits down sideways, one knee pulled up on the seat, so he can watch his boyfriend properly.

He peals off the paper carefully, making an effort to not tear it, and the anticipation is almost killing Blaine. He doesn’t always know what he’s doing, and being someone’s boyfriend means challenging himself in a lot of new ways, figuring out how to be the best he can be. But he’s pretty sure this present will be classified as bull’s eyes. Let it not be said that Blaine doesn’t pay attention and can’t pick up signals!

“Socks?” Kurt picks up the items. “You… Gave me socks?”

Kurt looks almost disappointed, and Blaine really doesn’t know why. He better explain it.

“You’ve been complaining about cold toes,” he says, looking pointedly at Kurt’s bare feet. “And I bet you’re already feeling the stress of being a Senior considering how often you’ve neglected to take care of your feet or even completely forgotten about socks. But now you have boyfriend-socks, so you don’t have to walk on numb feet anymore!” Blaine explains enthusiastically, and opens the wrapping further to demonstrate how thick the socks are, warm and fluffy, but still thin enough so that Kurt can wear them in his lighter shoes without getting blisters and cramps. “Look, this even has music notes on them!”

Kurt takes the mentioned socks, and studies them for a while, before he exhales, smiles and puts then on his feet.

“You are perhaps the most ridiculously thoughtful boyfriend ever,” he murmurs, and leans in to kiss Blaine.

“So it’s okay?” Blaine asks, still feeling as if he failed a test or surprised Kurt in a bad way.

“Of course it is, it’s more than okay. I love them. I love you!” he adds, and picks up the other two pair of socks. “Dolphins!” he squeals. “Don’t tell Brittany about them!”

“I’ll get you flowers next time,” Blaine promises, because socks really don’t scream _romance_.

“Not if I beat you ‘till it,” Kurt murmurs against his lips. “Come on, lunch is waiting, I was thinking quiche lorraine?”

* * *

“You’re early,” Kurt greets him. Blaine extricates his pocket watch from his pant pocket, and checks the time.

“Didn’t we say six?”

“I’m pretty sure we said seven,” Kurt frowns.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I… Do you want a coffee from the Lima Bean? I could run errands for you. If you have any?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kurt laughs, and pulls him in by the scarf again. Blaine is beginning to really enjoy the feeling of Kurt pulling him, dragging him, taking charge, being bossy but at the same time also making Blaine feel wanted. “Come on in. I haven’t finished getting ready for our date, but I’m sure I can find something to keep you entertained.”

“You look great to my eyes,” Blaine flirts sincerely, and lets Kurt help him with his coat. When it’s secured safely on a peg, Blaine leans in and kisses him deeply. “You look amazing, actually.”

“I haven’t showered since the morning. I planned an outfit for tonight. And I need to take my socks off,” he rattles off as if it was a ticked list.

“Most people remove their socks before they shower,” Blaine teases, and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist. “You’re making us lasagne, right? We’re staying home tonight?”

“Yes and yes,” Kurt murmurs, and rests his elbows on Blaine’s shoulders, cradles his head with his palms and leans in for yet a kiss. “But I wanted to look good.”

“You always look great, or even better. Tonight, you look divine.”

“Thank you,” Kurt preens. “You look very handsome tonight too. But the outfit I had planned? Breathtaking,” Kurt nods.

“An outfit without socks again?” Blaine teases, because even if he gifted Kurt with socks he’s forgotten to put any on at several occasions. Blaine can recognize a pattern by now. Kurt groans, hiding his face in Blaine’s neck. “You’re wearing socks now, though. Do you have a sporadic aversion to socks?”

“I…” Kurt nuzzles closer, and then he sighs. “Let’s sit down in the couch, if we’re having this conversation.”

“Okay,” Blaine murmurs confused, and this time he’s the one who leads Kurt to the living room.

They get comfortable, sitting sideways so they can face each other, arms resting on the back of the couch and fingers intertwined.

“I was hoping you’d take the hint.”

“But obviously I didn’t?” He didn’t know there were hints to be taken, only signs that Kurt was distracted and had cold toes in a stressful time.

“Is it obvious if you have to ask?” Kurt grins shyly, and Blaine rubs his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles.

“I think we both know I can be a little oblivious. What was this hint you tried to make?”

“Socks are difficult,” Kurt sighs, and Blaine bites his tongue to not crack a stupid joke. “I couldn’t figure out when to take them off. So I decided to remove them from the equation entirely.”

“When to take them off?” Blaine frowns confused.

“Yes, during sex,” Kurt blurts out.

Oh. Oh!

“Or rather before…” Kurt mumbles.

“So you are ready for us to take the next step?” Blaine blushes, and tries to tame the colony of butterflies in his stomach through share willpower.

“Aren’t you? Have you changed your mind?” Kurt asks, chewing on his lower lip.

“No, never!” Blaine wiggles closer on his butt, and takes Kurt’s other hand in his. “I would love to have sex with you, if you are ready.”

“I have been trying to tell you for weeks. I just didn’t know how, without sounding crude. _Hey, nice shoes, wanna get naked?_” he takes on a voice that makes Blaine think of Puck.

“That could have worked,” Blaine coughs to clear his suddenly gravely throat.

“But it’s not romantic, Blaine!” Kurt objects, and hits his shoulder with a fist.

“I know, we talked about it, remember? We want out first time to be romantic, spontaneous, but a little planned and not just carried away in the backseat of your car.”

“Exactly. And I thought it would be easier if my socks were already gone. It didn’t seem romantic to fumble with socks and sweaty feet in the _throws of passion_,” Kurt rolls his eyes.

“I suspect sex might be more awkward than we expect it to be.”

“Of course it’s awkward,” Kurt snorts. “I would be shocked if it wasn’t. I believe it’ll be like trying to perform a dance routine after having missed out on most of the choreography lessons; where do I place my hands and feet, where do I look, when do I move, how do I move, what are the lyrics, and when do I take off my socks? But I want to learn this with you, I want to explore. I’m ready. I just can’t deal with wearing socks when we give each other our virginities.”

“That was a lot of words!” Blaine exhales. “But I’m honoured that you want to share this with me. I really want to take that step with you too. With or without socks,” he teases. “Umm, do you want to… Now? Should we… Your bedroom?”

“No,” Kurt says quickly. “It feels forced now. Is it okay if we wait?”

“Of course,” Blaine agrees easily. His dick may disagree, but no way are they doing this unless they’re both comfortable. It’s a big step, at least for them. They have talked about it, and both decided that to them losing their virginities constituted being naked and reaching mutual orgasms. Just because there are a lot of things they can choose to do, they agreed it felt weird to have lots of sex, and still supposedly be virgins until they one day might do penetrative. So the first time they consciously, deliberately orgasm together, that’s the moment they lose the v-card, and they both want it to mean something, be an occasion. It’s a difficult balance between planned and spontaneity. “Let’s go make lasagne, I’m starving.”

* * *

Blaine’s house is blessedly empty, and the boys are stretched out on his bed, Kurt’s head buried in the pillows and Blaine straddling him with his lips attached to Kurt’s very delicious neck. The lips continue a trail down his bare chest; shirts disappeared some time ago. Kurt’s hands are this close to scratching Blaine’s shoulders with his nails, and his spine is curved up from the mattress in pure pleasure.

“Blaine… Blaine, Blaine, Blaine…” he moans, and Blaine hums in agreement against his hot skin.

“Can we remove our pants?” Kurt stutters, and Blaine stops for a moment to actually listen.

“Yes!” he hisses and nods. When they talked about this, Kurt had suggested they should try to remove clothes, because he just couldn’t stand the thought of staining good clothes, and the sticky feeling afterwards would also probably kill the romance for this important step.

They both fumble with buttons and zippers, and Blaine has to roll off of Kurt to wiggle out of his pants next to him. Kurt pulls the cover more securely over the both of them.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and Blaine can vaguely see his blush in his dimmed bedroom.

“Of course,” he says, and kisses him to drive the point home. He kisses and kisses him, and his hands are travelling across places they’ve been before, but it’s still exciting to really feel Kurt, touch his arms and shoulders and chest and neck and everything above the waist. His hands keep sneaking tiny detours down to the waistband of his underwear, though. “Can these come off, though?”

“I think that can be arranged,” Kurt grins, “but it’s probably easier if you’re not between my legs.”

Blaine didn’t think he could get harder, but Kurt talking about him being between his legs… He’s so hard it hurts in at least a dozen different delicious ways. But he manages to tear off of his boyfriend for long enough to wiggle and kick out of his briefs, and from the corner of his eyes he sees Kurt shimmy and make some kind of dance under the covers, before an arm peaks out and throws away something red.

“I love you so much!” Blaine murmurs, and Kurt grabs him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss. Kurt spreads his legs, and Blaine eagerly settles down where he’s welcomed.

“I love you too,” Kurt sighs, and lifts his right leg in the air to make more space for Blaine.

“Rest it on my shoulder,” Blaine suggests, and Kurt does that. “Fuck, you’re flexible!” he groans, and lower his pelvis even further until it’s no doubt they are really touching skin to skin.

“Kiss me,” Kurt demands, and Blaine eagerly complies as he starts moving his hips. They break the kiss to let out more or less synchronized groans and moans.

“That’s…”

“Yeah!”

“I want to touch you under the belt,” Kurt says awkwardly.

“I believe my belt is currently on the floor,” Blaine teases, but quickly adds. “You can touch me anywhere you want, Kurt, I’m yours, with all of me.”

Kurt’s hands move down his back, hesitate a little, but continue their journey until his hands have a firm grip on Blaine’s behind.

“Oh fuck yes,” Blaine groans at the sensation of Kurt’s hands on very uncharted territory.

“You can touch me too,” Kurt says hoarsely, while his head is trying to dig a path through the mattress, and his hips are doing movements that might be obscener than the Single Ladies-dance if Blaine could actually see. Blaine moves one hand to run along Kurt’s right thigh, while he’s trying to keep his balance on his other elbow.

“It’s…”

“I know!”

It doesn’t last as long as they’d want to, but it’s mindblowing while it does. After, Blaine is collapsed on top of Kurt, panting, and trying to decide what he thinks about the sticky mess he can feel between their bellies.

“Thank you,” he exhales, before taking a deep breath again, and then kisses Kurt where his lips can reach, which is in that exciting dip between his clavicles.

“And thank you,” Kurt murmurs back drowsily, but there’s a grin across his face that can only be described as moony. One leg is wrapped around Blaine’s waist, and his fingers are running mindlessly through Blaine’s hair breaking out of the gel-jail. Blaine can feel him stretch a little under him, and he should probably stop squishing his boyfriend, but he just came his brains out, how is he expected to be able to move?

“Oh crap,” Kurt mutters.

“What?” Blaine frowns, and tries to find a little energy to consider if he should panic.

“I’m still wearing socks,” he says so disappointed that Blaine can’t help but laugh at him. “I lost my virginity while wearing socks!”

“It could have been worse,” Blaine chuckles. “I guess we’ll just have to practice, until we figure out a proper order for these things.”

“More practicing, you say?” Kurt murmurs, and slides his calf down along Blaine’s butt until it rests across the back of his thigh. Blaine has no idea if Kurt is doing it intentionally or not, but it is extremely arousing. His teenaged dick is very ready for round two.

“I think we’re pretty good at that, practicing,” Blaine murmurs back, and finds a little energy to crane his neck until he can kiss Kurt. “And socks _are_ difficult. We better prepare to do a lot of practicing.”


End file.
